


A Warrior's Arrogate

by Nerdybookaddict



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kooli temple, Kunthala, Mystery, Nishada, Politics, The Islands of Malawa, Udhayagiri, Waterfall, on temporary hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdybookaddict/pseuds/Nerdybookaddict
Summary: Politics is almost as exciting as war and quite as dangerous. In a war, you can be killed once, but in politics many times - Winston Churchill.What if the political atmosphere of Mahishmati was not that simple? What if it was spanning for generations together? How would the current generation cope?





	1. Our First Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> The idea is sadly from the Baahubali movie but the fanfic is mine.
> 
> This is a multichapter fanfic. I will update every two weeks.
> 
> Happy reading!

The ongoing war was grueling.

The clang of the swords, the war cries, the sweat, the grime and the deaths were oppressing.

Mahishmati had nearly lost the war to Kalakeyas.

Kalakeyas were the most uncouth and worst nomad populace ever had to live on earth. Their strength was in their sheer numbers. They were a whooping 50,000 compared to Mahishmati’s meager 5000 warriors.

Amarendra Baahubali, one of the princes of the Kingdom Mahishmati, had a little difficulty on focusing what exactly was happening around him as a wave of turbulent emotions coursing through him. Thus said emotions where due to the very near defeat they faced with Kalakeyas. He shuddered remembering the opprobrious words of the Chieftain - leader of the Kalakeyas, on what will happen if they defeat Mahishmati.

The Chieftain had claimed that after defeating Mahishmati – the Kingless sentence of Mahishmati would come to an end. Kalakeyas would murder all Mahishmati’s men; enslave all Mahishmati’s children and claim every woman in the kingdom. The future king of Mahishmati would be from the Kalakeya clan, who would be the son of the Cheiftain mothered by Rajamatha Sivagami Devi.

Never! It will not happen. As long as Amarendra Baahubali was alive that would never happen.

The long search for the Chieftain in the battlefield had been fruitful. The way to the Chieftain was blocked by a row of Mahishmati's citizens. Along with his soldiers, Amarendra swiftly transported the citizens to safety. Amarendra found the Chieftain amidst an army of his soldiers. The Cheiftain was no slouch. They had charged against each other like two raging bulls, strike after strike. After many deadly blows and spars, it was clear – Amarendra was winning. He was beating the life out of Chieftain by making him a bloody pulp.

Mother wanted the Chieftain to die a humiliating death. That wish would come to fruition.

Amarendra wanted – no! – needed to see the vultures feasting on the Chieftain’s dead flesh as mother decreed. As he was dragging the dying Chieftain of the Kalakeya horde amidst battle to the open lands, Amarendra missed a flying target approaching the Chieftain’s head. That heavy missile like weapon knocked the Chieftain dead.

Enraged, Amarendra was looking for the wielder of the missile who had cut down on his savagery.

Bhalladeva stood on the other side with a sadistic smile but otherwise proud.

Realizations came rushing in.

Bhalladeva would now be coronated as the King to the Mahishmati empire.

Due to King Vikrama Deva's and his Queen's untimely deaths, the throne - lost their occupants and for Amarendra - his parents. Bijalla Deva - Vikrama's brother, did not ascend the throne but his wife Sivagami Devi took the responsibilities of ruling the kingless country with an iron fist. It was assumed first that their son - Bhalladeva was the heir to the throne. Sivagami Devi then adopted Amarendra as her own and made both her sons as heirs.

Bhalladeva and Amarendra Baahubali – the princes of Kingdom Mahishmati – both equally menacing, equal in age, talent, skills, education and all other aspects known – had been competing for the throne of Mahishmati albeit a long time. All the tests conducted proved both as efficient but equal. Seeing no other way as the Kalakeyan war approached, Rajamatha finally concluded that the one who would win this war – the one who would kill the Chieftain – would ascend the throne.

By killing the Chieftain, despite the way their mother wished for, Bhalladeva had effectively ended the battle with the Kalakeyas and him emerging victorious.

The Kingless spell of Mahishmati had been concluded.

For the first time in his life, Amarendra did not know what was he feeling – whether he was happy that this horrible battle with the Kalakeyas had ended or was sad that he lost the crown.

The long standing conflict between Amara and Bhalla due to the throne, which had lasted for as long as Amara could remember – with Bijalla always supporting only Bhalla but mother supporting both – had culminated bringing him a sense of peace. Clearing his mind and holding onto the peace, he congratulated Bhalla with a pat.

***********************

Amarendra focused on the tedious process of capturing the prisoners and tending to the heavily injured, while his mind was racing.

Though Mother, Kattapa and citizens had always claimed that they all wanted the best candidate to win the crown, Amarendra had always suspected that he was slightly more favored than Bhalla. Now his suspicion had come to fruition by the disappointed faces surrounding him. He observed with a pang that only Bhalla, Bijalla and the high priest were happy now. Mother was unsettled.

Amarendra quickly cleared his mind, as everyone gathered at the footsteps of their war Goddess Mahakali and offered her their gratitude. Mother took a deep breath and stepped forward to address the gathering.

“Today is an auspicious day for many reasons. Our great kingdom of Mahishmati has been saved from the evil clutches of the Kalakeyas. The long wait for Mahishmati’s King has come to an end. Both our princes have been equally blessed with valor and skill, but one excelled in terms of chivalry and quick-wittedness which are very important qualities for serving as a king. For the gallant act of saving the subjects by uplifting the army, I choose Amarendra Baahubali as the king of Mahishmati and Bhalladeva as the Army General. My verdict is your order, my order is the law! Jai Mahishmati!” Mother proclaimed.

“All hail the King – Amarendra Baahubali!”

Happiness kicked in. Amarendra was ecstatic. He was the king.

Chants rose –

“Long live the King Baahubali!”

“Mahishmati’s King – Amarendra Baahubali!”

He observed mother’s order was very much welcomed by everybody as their chants praising him raised cutting of whatever Bijalla wanted to say and Bhalla’s face displaying betrayal before shifting to a mask of polite indifference. Bhalla congratulated Amarendra with a smile and bowed before him. Though Bhalla smiled to his level best, Amarendra was robbed off his happiness sensing the sadness and betrayal in Bhalla’s eyes.

“Baahubali!”

“Baahubali!”

“Baahubali!”

Amarendra was carried on by people – on their shoulders – as the celebration began. He looked around. Bijalla was like a lament volcano trying to erupt. Kattapa was strutting around Amarendra like a proud peacock. Mother was smiling at him though it did not reach her eyes. Chants praising him rose to deafening levels, effectively silencing his racing mind.

“Baahubali!”

“Baahubali!”

********************

After reaching the castle and prodded by the physician, Amarendra knew he should be feeling relaxed but he was not. He wanted to analyze everything that happened, but his exhaustion drove him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not beta'ed. Please tell me any mistakes if you find them. I'll correct them as swiftly as possible. 
> 
> Amarendra is an observant chap, isn't he? Any big kingdom would be riddled with politics and secrets. We will explore Mahishmati's in this fiction. 
> 
> Next chapter would be an unexpected twist. You will all meet an important character, who i hope will be interesting to you all.
> 
> Please share your thoughts as Comments.
> 
> You can also catch me in tumblr life-for-the-brave@tumblr.com


	2. Our Second Warrior

“All hail the King – Amarendra Baahubali!”

No! 

May be Bijalladeva heard it wrong. 

Bijalla wanted to clarify that the throne did not go to Bhalla – his son – the rightful heir – even after winning all the needless competition Sivagami needed to prove – Bhalla’s superiority over Baahu.

“Baahubali!”

“Baahubali!”

Chants hailing the new king erupted.

Worthless dunderheads! 

Bijalladeva maintained a cordial face while he was seething in his mind. Sivagami, that contemptuous fool had the gall to cast his son aside for that useless orphan. He couldn’t believe how she could humiliate his son like this even after he won that stupid tussle. That disgraceful woman! He wanted to ruin her. He imagined how it would be to watch her death. May be he would stab her on her heart so that she could feel the pain he had or he would squeeze her throat so hard that he could happily see the life leaving her eyes. But all these furious thoughts had no value at the moment. 

As infuriating that woman was Bijalla’s first priority was his son – his blood, his hope, his life. For the first time in his life, Bijalla couldn’t muster up enough courage to meet his son’s eyes. He couldn’t bear to watch his son bowing before that bastard. He couldn’t stand to see the celebrations. He quickly set out to his room in the palace.

Bijalla’s thoughts were jumbled with hurt and vengeance. Drinking about half a jar of liquor at once, he realized how he had failed his only son, the rightful heir for the throne. He had not felt like a failure for a long time. In a fit of rage, he smashed the jar of liquor against the wall. The red color wine spilled forth staining everywhere – making a huge mess – bringing up long forgotten memories. 

************************

Bijalla was almost seven summers old. He watched his baby brother – Vikrama deva running around creating havoc. Bijalla was not allowed to play with Vikrama, as Vikrama got sick quite often. His mother always said that Vikrama had born too early and it was a miracle that he had survived. Vikrama, the miracle baby, was only three summers old but he had everyone catering to his whims and claimed everyone’s attention. Maybe it was because there was no Malawa rebellion escalating to humongous proportions – killing his grandparents – the former King and Queen immediately after his birth. May be it was because Vikrama had two hands which functioned well unlike him. His right hand was good but his left hand was faulty and never seemed to work. It had never bothered him until the year he started tutoring. 

Young Bijalla was very excited to start his lessons. He was neither allowed outside the palace walls nor could he meet people of his age. Because of the classes, he would finally meet his peers and make friends. As jubilant he was – he sorely lacked the fine way of communication – which had detrimental effects. His expectation of finding friends ended up as a disaster. The new kids did not warm up to him; instead they had ganged up on him. He could still feel his humiliation and pain from the laughter of other kids – when he said that he wanted to become like a heroic king in the epics. They had made fun of his handicap and said that he would never make it as a handicap warrior let alone – the king, the misfortunate king whose birth resulted as the spark of severe rebellion and the death of his grandparents. It had struck a hard cord in Bijalla’s lonely little ambitious heart. He reigned in his temper. He focused only on his lessons as his teachers impressed upon him that anyone with wits can achieve anything.

Bijalla might not be able to operate bow and arrows but he could swing his sword like a mighty warrior in the stories with his one excellent hand. No matter what anyone said – Father was the king. He was the one everyone bowed to and looked upon. Bijalla was the eldest prince. He was the heir to the most famous kingdom Mahishmati. He would be powerful and he would be bowed to. He would show them later by being the most powerful king anyone had ever seen. 

**********************

Bijalla longed to see his father who had left to halt the Malawan rebellion almost two summers ago. After his father left, Mother barely had just enough time to spend with him and Vikrama as she was always in the court. Now he had received news that father had suppressed the rebellion of those bad Malawas – and he would be back soon! Maybe they would spend more time with him.

The day had come. Bijalla vibrated with eagerness to meet his father. He was dressed in his longest and finest silk shawls for the occasion. The vibrant blue of his shawl matched his equally brilliant smile. Father smiled at him. He had to wait to talk to father though. Father was being lauded in the court for the suppression of the rebels. Father accepted the praise with grace and had said that justice was achieved. But he cautioned the kingdom about rogue rebels who were still operating undercover for the Malawas. 

Father had just arrived in time for the Kooli temple festival – an illustrious festival which occurred once in every 25 years. The Queen was to walk barefoot from the palace carrying the holy fire to the Kooli temple – without stopping or stepping back even once. With that sacred fire, the king was to set ablaze the demon. It was said that the fire she carried was so sacred that in no circumstances the fire should be allowed to dim – otherwise bad luck would descend on the entire kingdom. 

The trek for the festival had started then with Father bellowing the gong. Mother had started the journey barefoot with a blazing charcoal pot on her head and a cane on her hand. Father followed her with the guards. One nanny carried Bijalla and another carried Vikrama behind this procession. 

**************************

Bijalla was very much excited on his first journey to see the world outside the palace walls. He was amazed by the new people, roads, mountains and the fields. He could not even keep track of all the wondrous sights he saw. The long trek to the Kooli temple had almost come to an end. Bijalla stood straight and high near his nanny. 

The Kooli temple was in the midst of the dense forest and all the decorations were done in a contrast color to the scenery. The contrived demon to be blasted by the holy fire was as high as the sky. The main pooja area was protected from the elements by a huge roof which was held in place by big bamboo poles. The scent of turmeric and kumkum along with various flowery smells drenched the place. Mother offered her prayer to the God and started the festival by lighting the holy fire pit with the blazing charcoal pot on her head. The high priest started the chants of the pooja – loud and clear. When people started ringing the temple bells along with high priest’s chants, Bijalla was entranced by the mystic mood created by the forest. 

Bijalla stepped towards his mother but he unexpectedly tripped on his new long blue silk shawl. Unable to balance himself with his one good hand, he couldn’t control his projectile – he fell on a huge bamboo pole – which was holding the roof. The whole roof above the pooja area lost its balance and the falling pole had struck hard on a huge pot emptying its contents – thick red colored kumkum water – sprayed nearly everywhere – mainly on the holy fire. 

The holy fire started succumbing, igniting screams from the appalled crowd –  
“No!”  
“The holy fire!”  
“Handicapped idiot!”  
“Save the fire!”

The thick kumkum water had nearly extinguishing all its flames. The fire was barely recovering. 

The next second – the unstable roof which had lost one of its pole – fell sideways noisily onto the ground. Thankfully no one got injured and they all turned their attention to fire.

In the huge ruckus, which all had happened in a fraction of a second, the crowd observed with reverence that the weakened fire – had survived. They were rendered speechless by the tenacity of the fire – the sacred fire was only a fist size sparking up flames from embers, occasionally soaring a little high but astonishingly alive. 

Bijalla, who had observed that short lived but huge commotion with distressed awe, noticed that he was lying on the ground in a pool of kumkum water due to his fall. He was drenched and his clothes started to soak up the kumkum water. He stood up embarrassed to the core and looked at all the shocking faces surrounding him. 

“Bijalla!” Mother bent towards him – A flying arrow whizzed past in the place where her head was just moments ago – killing a person standing right behind her.

“Guards!” his father exclaimed. 

Father abruptly blocked an arrow aimed to his chest. A second arrow hit mother’s left hand.

An almighty chaos broke out. The guards clashed with the disguised attackers. People were screaming. They were calling out to their loved ones, helping others, fighting the attackers. Arrows were raining everywhere. Swords clashed. Bijalla was snatched by his nanny. Bijalla and Vikrama were immediately taken to his mother. Mother had lost a lot of blood but she was stable. The fight was escalating in intensity. Many were acquiring injuries. People were running and hiding wherever they could find – but the high priest – he was trying with all his might to keep up the flames of the holy fire. The high priest had an arrow sticking to his left calf but he was dutifully attending to the sacred fire. Some guards were flanking on his side. Father and guards were working their way ferociously through the attackers.

***********************

Little later, all those who had attacked were captured either dead or alive. They were identified as rogue Malawan rebels seeking retribution and were swiftly transported to the palace’s prison. All those injured were attended. Mother’s arrow was quite deep but she was seemingly well after medical attention. Father and Mother were working tirelessly with the high priest to start the pooja again.

The throng was happy as the holy fire was still tending but the mood remained ambiguous. 

Bijalla could hear all the whispers around him. People were commenting about how the sacred flames had survived the shortcomings; how the flames nearly dying and the subsequent attack leading to queen’s injury were signs of bad luck – when mahishmati was already in a state of misfortune with their old king and queen’s deaths. He could also hear how the people reacted very badly to see their heir prince having a big handicap. Some were openly speculating that the prince’s clumsiness provided the distraction for embarking on the attack. If the prince had not been clumsy due to his handicap, the guards would have never been distracted and allowed the attack to happen. Many others also countered how the misfortunate Bijalla would not become their heir prince when they have a physically fit younger one. 

All the public’s preconceptions were stopped – as the holy fire roared – the pooja started again. With a distinctly determined tone, the high priest chanted the prayers and father blasted off the demon with the sacred fire using a gigantic bow and arrow. The pooja ended peacefully without any other interruptions. 

Bijalla couldn’t find a chance to talk to his parents. Mother and father were quickly escorted back to palace to tend to their injuries. 

*************************

After reaching the palace, everyone had their full attention on mother as her injury had taken a worst turn. It persisted for days together. Father never really spoke with either of them – Bijalla and Vikrama, aside from the occasional greetings. Bijalla remained with his mother all through her conscious and unconscious spells. The healer said that the wound had been due to a poisoned arrow and it had become heavily infected. The healer gravely apologized that the chances of recovery were diminishing and the odds were against them. The prayers offered for the wellness of the queen increased steadily day by day.

The direct cause of queen’s injury – the rogue Malawan attack was nearly forgotten by the people. Many confabulated that the elder prince had seen fit to ruin an auspicious day. Most were conjecturing with ‘What ifs’ – What if the elder prince had not dimmed the sacred fire? What if the superstition was true – that dimming the sacred fire would bring misfortune? What if the queen’s illness was the misfortune that descended on the kingdom? What if this was only the beginning of misfortune and the worst was yet to come? 

The whole palace was buzzing that the malady of the queen was due to the unfortunate incident of the elder prince nearly diminishing the holy fire. It was an unfortunate accident, Bijalla wanted to say – probably scream – but he kept his tears in control. As father struggled to even greet him, Bijalla suspected that even his father was subconsciously blaming Bijalla for causing the split second distraction leading to the deadly attack.

Bijalla’s only source of strength was his ailing mother. Teary eyed by all the unfound accusations, he remained by her side. Whenever she was conscious, she would smile at him and tried to speak. Only once she had spoken. In a tired and gasping voice, she spoke to Bijalla – just two words – “Be strong”. It seemed that she had used all her strength for those two words before succumbing into unconsciousness. She never woke again.

************************

A week later from the Kooli festival, the Queen of Mahishmati had reached the footsteps of God in heaven leaving her son Bijalla all alone – despite Bijalla having a father and a brother. 

Bijalla could hear how all the people around him – considered him as a misfortune; it was his misfortunate birth that led the Malawan rebels to kill the old king and queen – bijalla’s grandparents and then his mother – the queen. It was the only thing that he had been hearing since that fall. But nobody spoke with him. 

The only one mattered to Bijalla was his mother. He would not cry. He would not run to his father. He would be strong for his mother. 

Warriors were the strongest people on earth. He would be one. He would be the strongest. The strongest warrior would be the King. So he would be the king. The king was powerful. Then all would respect him. They would never say him as a bad luck. They would never blame him foolishly. It irked him that he was harassed for his mother’s death – his beautiful, loving, powerful, angel like mother’s death. Blinking the tears back, he convinced himself that the public were like sheep – never thinking on their own – but they were always there – baseless and spouting nonsense. The public, with the buzzing noise like mosquitoes – they were sucking the blood from those who would serve them with no respect. When he would become the king, he would crush those voices against him to nothingness.

****************

Reeling from the memories of his childhood, Bijalla began filling his goblet with wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the second chapter folks. I’m sure none eagerly waited for Bijalla to be the curve ball of this chapter. We will get to see Amarendra and others in time. This chapter was a bit hard for me to write as it was imperative that I strike the right chord for Bijalla in you. I think Bijalla was a warrior in his own way with his own principles. I’m not rallying for Bijalla and all that. Because I know we are all rightly pissed at him. But I want all of you to know his story. His story is one of the bases of this storyline. All these incidents happened when Bijalla was 7-8 years old. I’m hopefully waiting that I have not disappointed anybody with this chapter. You were all waiting for our astonishing Amara, but I gave you all a drunken bigot Bijalla :-P. Please do review.
> 
> Basically the above chapter evolved from the plot in the movie – we did not see Bijalla attending the illustrious kooli temple festival. It got me thinking on whys and hows. In the movie the holy fire was on open ground, I drew inspiration from that. As for Kattapa and Malawas we will get to know them soon.
> 
> Please let me know on what you think of this spin on my story. Was this interesting enough? Any mistakes? Grammatical errors? I’ll correct them as soon as I can.
> 
> So much to do for the third chapter, it will be ready by 2 weeks... October 3rd... See you then :-)


	3. Our Third Warrior

Bhalladeva, the son of Bijalladeva and Rajamatha Sivagami Devi, was tossing and turning on his bed. Attempting to sleep was useless. Even a refreshing bath after returning from the battle had not calmed Bhalla the slightest. 

Bhalla’s mind was in an uproar – he was agitated; cheated; defeated. Mother’s promise was that one who killed the Kalakeyan chief would get the throne. Despite winning the competition by killing the Kalakeyan chief, Bhalladeva had lost the throne to Amarendra Baahubali. Bhalla had lost. Bhalla was betrayed by his own mother. She had twisted her promise to suit her needs. How could his mother do this to him? Wasn’t she the one always telling about fair play? 

Mother had favored Baahu just because he saved some of those stupid common people. Who cared about them anyway? What if three of them had died by Bhalla’s hands? They were so stupid to get themselves arrested by Kalakeyas. Shouldn’t the future king’s focus be only on killing the enemy? By his mother’s logic, if he stopped every time to save a common, won’t he be delayed in killing the enemy – which would lead the enemy to kill more of his soldiers and commons? How did Baahu save them anyway? Probably he did something which appeared as a ludicrously idiotic plan but worked out spectacularly by the end – like the gigantic combustible flying carpets.

This was why Bhalla must have killed Baahu when he had the chance. Why had he not eliminated the risk by killing Baahu early? There were not numerous opportunities when they were growing up, were they? Was Bhalla hoping that he would be chosen as the heir, obviating Baahu’s death? Was it the need to prove his superiority? But later in the competition, Baahu proved to be Bhalla’s equal. Why he hadn’t killed Baahu then? The hunt for the Kalakeyan spy was the perfect chance to kill Baahu. They both were travelling alone. A legion of opportunities presented itself for killing Baahu but Bhalla had attempted only once. Why he had attempted only once? May be it was because he valued Baahu’s skills for the war? Yes. Must be it – Baahu was a good soldier and a creative problem solver. Otherwise Bhalla would have killed Baahu, wouldn’t he? Yes. If it also weren’t for the slave Kattapa, Baahu would have died a tragic death near Singapuram. All his musings were useless at this moment. The competition had already ended. Despite getting the better machinery and the vast number of the soldiers compared to Baahu, Bhalla had been defeated by Baahu in the end. 

Was this the justice – the epics preached – that the good always triumphed over evil in the end? 

Good? He had to be true to himself. Amarendra Baahubali was inherently good but ridiculously naïve. Though Baahu was a little arrogant with Bhalla, Baahu was always thinking about commons and their welfare. 

Evil? Bhalla did not think so. Bhalla wanted the power – the throne. Wishing for the throne did not make him evil. Killing for the throne also did not make him evil. It was pretty common everywhere. Didn’t Baahu and he just assassinate a massive horde of Kalakeyas for the throne? Didn’t mother assassinate Marthanda who was planning to acquire the throne? 

Was it the end? No, it wasn’t. Just because he lost the throne to Amarendra Baahubali did not mean it was the end.

Though Bhalla had lost the battle, he was a little satisfied that he was able to maintain his dignity in the field. When mother announced Baahu as the king, he had given into his emotions – the rage almost immediately, before regaining his mask. He did not trust his voice to help him. It was quite an arduous task to maintain a smile on his face and congratulate Baahu by a pat on the back. He would have almost flattened Baahu by the force of the pat if he hadn’t gripped his lessons on propriety as a lifeline.

Bhalla’s control fractured a little when he bowed to the new king – his father was leaving. His father, whose desperate wish was Bhalla never bowing before anyone; the man who made Bhalla as he was; whose love to Bhalla had no bounds; who had supported Bhalla in all his endeavors; who had done anything and everything to help him; was leaving the battlefield unable to tolerate his defeat. 

The battlefield was celebrating Baahu’s victory – or where they celebrating Bhalla’s defeat? Bhalla knew he was not very famous among the commons but he never expected that they would hate him which was quite apparent at the end of the battle. Their opinions did not matter much. For those stupid commons, their kings were replaceable. After one king’s death, they would carry another on shoulders without thinking twice. 

Would the new king – Amarendra Baahubali gloat? Baahu and Bhalla had always ribbed at each other from childhood that the other would be the Army general – not the King. How would he face Baahu as a loser? Would Baahu brag that Bhalla had lost in the competition? Would Baahu’s behavior be obnoxious? Bhalla had not seen Baahu since bowing to him on the battlefield. Would it be like that always – Bhalla always bowing to Baahu? Would there be a new court? Would Bhalla be required to prove his worth to the new King? Would he be given respect after this humiliating defeat? Time would only tell.

Getting up from the bed – as Bhalla was unable to slow his racing mind in that tranquil night, he went to find his father.

***********************

“Bhalla, my son!” his father screamed from the bed where he was sitting. Father was consuming wine and it looked like he had already fuddled – a lot. There was a big splash of red wine all over the wall and the floor, with empty jars strewn around. It seemed like his father had given into the rage that Bhalla had seemingly controlled. Bhalla quickly shut all the binds and locked the door.

“Father give me your vessel you have consumed enough” told Bhalla as he sat near his father on the bed.

“Not enough son. Not this day. Not enough for this day when my mother resurfaced from my mind’s abyss. Not enough for this wretched day when people have wronged my son. Wronged my son in the same I was wronged. I desperately wished happiness for you Bhalla. It did not happen. The one thing I fervently wished for my son did not happen. You won that needless competition Bhalla! You deserve the throne. Not that mongrel. Your mother, Rajamatha Sivagami Devi – how I wish I could kill her! For the first time, I controlled myself from killing her when she charmed everyone in the bloody court and ascended as Rajamatha spoiling all my plans; later I nearly killed her when she shared your rightful place with that mongrel. Your mother gave that bastard – what was purely yours – her milk, her love, your status. But now, it is your throne Bhalla!” Father thundered sploshing his wine everywhere.

Ignoring his father’s righteous anger, Bhalla was struck by an odd revelation – his father was talking about his mysterious past! Struggling to maintain a nonchalant façade, Bhalla questioned “Plans? What are you talking about Father?” curiously wondering whether this time his father would talk or would skillfully dodge the personal history questions.

“My plans!” Father made an emotionally derisive guffaw. “All my plans have failed Bhalla. Every single one of them had bit the dust except one – that is you. I live for you my son. You are the ray of hope in my life”, smiled Father. His father had diverted from the topic as usual. Bhalla fractiously demanded, “Father, we were talking about your plans – not me.” 

Reminiscing something – father laughed heartily, “Even at the age of mere minutes post birth, you were quit demanding. You know, you had a very loud cry. The healers tried everything – feeding, carrying or placing you on their lap. Nothing worked. None could console you – not your mother, not the healers. Then I got you for the first time. They placed you on my lap. Your ear piercing cry subsided gradually to everyone’s astonishment. Resting on that white silk pillow, you looked so small, pink and exhausted. You were sniffling delicately but even then you managed to look quite regal. All your limbs were good with ten little fingers and ten little toes – kicking quite strongly in all directions. I decided your name must be Bhalladeva then and there. To name you, I was trying to gather you close with my right hand but somehow you turned – with your head settling in the crook of my useless left hand. I have never touched anything in my whole life with that hand Bhalla, if I could help it. But you – you my son – you bedded there and grabbed my thumb into your tiny little fist. And then you opened your trusty little eyes – trapping me there for all eternity. I, Bijalla Deva was utterly ensnared. That never lessened with time. Watching you grow as a strapping warrior all these years had gratified me beyond measure son” 

Bhalla was speechless by his father’s emotional outburst. He was emboldened by the memory. It was a happy memory – so why hadn’t his father shared this memory before? His father had always been tight lipped – but seeing his father spill the beans Bhalla concluded that – watching him loose the throne had distressed father much more than he imagined. Interrupting his train of thought, Father added gloomily “I have never been deliriously happy before you Bhalla. The past was all full of mistrust, accusations and failed plans. I fear the history might repeat itself. It is time for you know to Bhalla”

Bhalla was a little curious about what his father would reveal. “Tell me son, why do you think the Kalakeyas attacked us now?” asked Father.

“They are uncivilized nomads, Father. We have not been in their destructive path before – or that is what I thought. They want our lands and gold? Since you are asking me this question – implies that is not a simple answer. I captured the spy who had no idea except the plan for their attack. Was there an ulterior motive behind their attack? How did you know Father? Why it was kept a secret – even from me? Does mother know?” oppugned Bhalla.

“So many questions! Not been in their destructive path before? Use that brain of yours, son. Our northern border is the Kalakeya forest. They are our neighbours essentially” Father boozed cheekily. 

“Neighbours! Our northern borders are just Kalakeyan forests Father. It’s just a name. People don’t live there. They are no man’s land, aren’t they father?” paused Bhalla and then wondered out loud, “Astonishing…! If it had been no man’s land we would have claimed the land long ago. Since we hadn’t, there must be settlements. Is it a hidden Kalakeya settlement father?”

Father nodded. Bhalla continued “Why we – No, I hadn’t known that? If we are neighbours with Kalakeyas, there must be a history – a friendly one or a violent one. But here there is none!”

“Not that you know of!” exacted father, drinking the wine.

“How father? Father! Are you even aware what are you talking about? You are completely inebriated! Is this conservation sane or is it a fictitious drunken rambling of a sad man? Stop with the wine father!” Bhalla grabbed for the vessel.

Father declared, “I’m a sad man now Bhalla on all accounts. I have been drowning my sorrows for ages but I’m perfectly aware of what is going on even with copious wine. You came to see me after your bath and your unsuccessful attempt to sleep. You entered this room trembling with emotions. But now you are not thinking about them even the slightest. This is not a drunken rambling Bhalla.”

Bhalla instantly lost all his doubts regarding his father’s credibility. Believing his father knew his facts, Bhalla marveled about this mystery, “Mother must have been unaware of Kalakeyas – as the living neighbours. If she had known, Baahu and I would have known. How are you so sure about this father?” 

“Whose spy system is superior Bhalla? Your mother’s or mine?” questioned Father.

“Obviously yours, Father” agreed Bhalla with a gulp of his wine.

“Trust me then. Listen carefully Bhalla. The thing I’m going to tell you now, as you obviously know is not common knowledge. Aagama and I have been unearthing all this history, starting from our childhood by bits and scrapes till we reached your age. It is the work of my lifetime Bhalla”

“Aagama swami, our head priest? I know he supports me but he was your childhood friend? You both do not appear that close, is there a reason behind that too?” Bhalla inquired.

“Yes son. We appear as acquaintances but actually we are close friends. It was intentionally hidden before but now we are used to it” Father reminisced. 

“I do not know many things, do I? I have always been caught up in this Bhalla or Baahu war from my childhood – because of that I have failed to notice even my father’s supposed best friend” grouched Bhalla swallowing a big gulp of wine.

“Keep a clear head son. Grumblings take away your focus. We were talking about Kalakeyas not about you” Father gestured for the wine. Bhalla reluctantly gave the wine to father to keep his wits. He had a rare opportunity to hear about his father’s past. He would try to probe but not squander away that chance by rambling.

“Yes father. Kalakeyas were – or is it – are our neighbours?” asked Bhalla.

“Cheeky brat!” Father leaned on the bed and started – 

“The Kalakeyan history actually stretches back to centuries together. So old that it was recorded that they originally belong to the Asuras’ clan. The Kalakeyas were primarily pirates. They were fearsome and unstoppable. Along with help of another clan Paulomas, they became the uncrowned rulers of the sea. They defeated together many clans driving them out of sea, one of them hypothesized to be the Yavanas. It was claimed that they were finally defeated by the Gods in the sea. After they were driven away from the sea, Kalakeyas joined the Paulomas” 

“The Paulomas primarily ruled on land. They had a big kingdom. Along with the Kalakeyas they built a city together for peaceful co-existence. But it did not last for long. The city was destroyed a by natural disaster. There were various speculations on how the city was destroyed. The said disaster led to a total failure of natural vegetation. All their attempts to revive the vegetations failed – the water was too salty to drink; the land was too rough to plough; animals did not live long enough for meat”

“The large Pauloman kingdom was barely self sufficient following the disaster but with this added weight of the Kalakeyan clan comprising of gigantic thousands, the economy crumpled. Pauloman people preferred to share their meager resources with their own. It was a momentous mistake. The Kalakeyas retaliated by a powerful backlash destroying thousands. The resultant war was devastating to the people as well as the remaining land. How did they manage to destroy the land centuries ago is still a mystery. Since the land became vain – the Kalakeyas and the Paulomas both – majorly became nomadic population. A fraction of the populace was also believed to be settled. It was speculated that Kalakeyas settled in the forests now in the north of Mahishmati and Paulomas further along our eastern borders beyond Narmada – now Kunthala” finished Father, swigging a large amount of wine.

“So you believe there is a Kalakeyan settlement in our northern border. Excellent story father and great research too. But why did they hide? How the place where Kalakeyas lived decades ago have a bearing on what they do now? Why did you spend so much time in this father? What did interest you?” questioned Bhalla still reeling from the story.

“The Pauloman Kingdom was vast and later fractured by various rulers to four places now known as the Kalakeyan forests; The Islands of Malawa; Nishada kingdom; Udhayagiri mountains. Mahishmati was not founded at that time – being a part of the Harheya kingdom” said Father.

“Let me get this straight father. You found history essentially older than the Mahishmati kingdom. You also found that our past neighbours – the Nishada kingdom which was won by my Great-grandfather and Malawan islands won by my grandfather – now both being the Western part of Mahishmati – belonged to the Pauloman Kingdom ages ago? And nobody knew that?” exasperated Bhalla.

“Correction Bhalla – nobody who is alive knows that” stated Father.

“What are you implying father? All these history were purposefully hidden?” inquired Bhalla.

“It may seem farfetched Bhalla. But it is the truth” Father concluded gravelly.

“Yes father, farfetched. We now own the entirety of Pauloman kingdom except our southern border – the Udhayagiri Mountains. And the lands – they were destroyed, weren’t they? How did they do it? But Nishadan and Malawan lands produce well now – implying the destruction was temporary. Was it another natural disaster? Why it is a secret father?” Bhalla interrogated.

“We made various speculations on how that happened, Bhalla. Nothing came conclusive. Aagama and I faced problems when we discovered this history. So we had our records of the research locked away. There were rumors that someone has dusted the cobwebs on my work six months back” stated Father.

“You came to know someone was following this history six months back – when we were neck deep in the heir fiasco – on who would claim the throne? Clarify me something father – this is just history, isn’t it? What is the harm from that?” queried Bhalla.

“I told you we faced problems two decades back because of this. Six months after the speculation of a supposed leak, there is a Kalakeyan attack. There must be a link. I fear that someone had been successful in angering the Kalakeyas and probably the Paulomans too” Father said critically.

Bhalla exasperated, “Do we even have Pauloman people now father?”

Father stated, “I believe that they are now called Pindaris”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bhalladeva – my reason why Bijalla gave him this name – in tamil ‘Bhalla’ derived from ‘Bhallam’ meaning ‘Strength’. 
> 
> Who is Aagama swami? He is the high priest who is always on bhalla’s side in canon. Remember? He carries a very unique rudhraksha walking stick in the movies and performs pooja before the war and in coronation. He is almost a consistent character in Bhalla’s scenes. 
> 
> This chapter is supposed to include more content or let us say happenings. I really wanted to give you more but both drunkards – Bhalla and Bijalla got extremely chatty not allowing me to write any further. Both the characters are inebriated – which would explain the mood swings that they exhibited in this chapter. Some of the history mentioned above is true – well as true as it can be in Wikipedia. The Yavanas are what they called the Greeks in olden days.
> 
> We will be meeting more of the characters in the next chapter – Kattapa, Amara and Sivagami. 
> 
> If you have noticed, I have corrected some errors in the first and second chapter. What do you think? Is the continuity preserved from the first chapter? What about the father and son combo? Interesting? Boring? Any doubt? Grammar flaws? Any correction required? Suggestions? This is not beta’ed. I’ll correct the mistakes as swiftly as possible. 
> 
> Hit the button ‘Comment’ below. Reviews would be absolutely wonderful. I would love to know what you think about the story. 
> 
> Want to discuss with me personally? Catch me on life-for-the-brave@tumblr.com. The next update is as you know – would be on the 2nd Tuesday from now – Oct 17.


	4. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank my awesome beta 'iwearplaids' for putting up with all the errors of this chapter. Thank you so much darling for undertaking this fiction.

“I believe that they are now called Pindaris,” stated Bijalla.

The quiet aftermath of the sentence was shattered by a persistent knock on the door.

“Get the door Bhalla,” Bijalla stated.

“Father this discussion is not over,” Bhalla declared.

Bijalla nodded drunkenly.

On opening the door, Bhalla found the high priest Aagama swami, standing there agitatedly.

“High priest, greetings,” Bhalla contained his voice, as he was shocked by the sudden appearance of his fathers supposed best friend.

Aagamaji's expression dulled on seeing Bhalla's face, “Greetings, my prince. It is truly a pity that you had not been chosen today.”

On Bhalla's disgruntled nod, Aagamaji entered the room.

Aagamaji sat near father and said gravely, “I have sensitive information.”

*******************

Amarendra was woken from his sleep by a persistent knock on the door. He opened his door groggily to find a bone weary Kattapa standing by.

“Greetings, My King,” Kattapa bowed deeply.

“What is this, uncle? Why have you not gone to sleep?” Amara yawned.

“My King, I have come bearing classified information,” Kattapa said gravely.

“Get in uncle,” Amara closed the door behind Kattapa.

“You have come bearing classified information in such late hours? It is not even two hours since we have returned from the battlefield,” Amara yawned again.

Kattapa nodded gloomily, “It is kind of an emergency, My King. Should I arrange some refreshments? Are you completely awake, My King —”

Amara interrupted Kattapa, “Stop with this My King nonsense uncle, just call me Baahu.”

Kattapa nodded reluctantly. “B —” After a brief pause he stated, “I cannot.” On seeing Amara's glare, he continued, “It is difficult to call you like that My Ki —”

Amara scolded, “No! Uncle you dont get —”

Kattapa nearly growled, “It has been my fervent wish for so many years to call you My King, Baahu. I understand that you don't like it. I'll try to avoid calling you like that in private. But if I slip, don't rain on this old man's parade, Baahu.”

Amara on getting his name from Kattapa's mouth smirked and sallied forth, “Check your cheek, old man. Your King might not like it.”

“When you can smirk like that, you are more than aware,” Kattapa continued somberly, “My King, as you know I have been serving in this castle for more than 30 years. When you live in this place as long as I have, you are privy to pick up some happenings going around in the castle. Something big is brewing on My King. It has already started.”

“What are you talking about Uncle?”

“My King, after we returned from the battle, we found signs that someone had broken into the southern basement. Nothing appears to be stolen. No messages were left behind. None of the other security guards are even aware of the unauthorized entry. So it was done either by a skilled con or an insider.”

“Someone had entered the southern basement. They took nothing and gave us nothing. So what happened… was an investigation. Why would anyone investigate a dumpsite?” Amara questioned.

“My Ki —” Kattapa started. Amara suddenly interrupted, “Is it the same part of the basement in which you caught Bhalla and me breaking in, when we were ten?”

“Yes, My King, you are right. It is the same basement in which I caught our little scamps trying to sneak in,” Kattapa muttered.

Amara reminisced with a laugh, “Bhalla and I were curious little boys then. We just wanted to explore. When we heard there was something hidden in that basement, we went to investigate. We got caught by you. It was fun.”

Turning away from Kattapa, Amara added soberly, “It was fun, until Uncle Bijalla blasted me, for taking Bhalla astray. I didn't think it was possible for Uncle Bijalla to hate me more Kattapa, but he did.”

Kattapa was struggling to come up with an appropriate response.

Taking a deep breath, Amara mulled over, “The hidden mystery was transferred out of the basement later. It became a dumpsite. Why would anyone enter a dumpsite? Unless, it is not really a dumpsite! We do have something in there. What do we guard in there?”

“We do guard something valuable in that basement, My King. I'm not privileged enough to know what,” Kattapa answered.

Amara speculated, “How long we have been guarding that in the castle?”

“For more than sixteen years, My King.”

Amaras eyes widened at this huge secret. “For some reason it was kept hidden that long. How someone discovered this extremely close guarded secret of sixteen years and attempted a break in…?” He concluded, “The guards! How many guards do we have in there? Were the guards assigned in circulation to the southern basement?”

Kattapa said, “No, My King. Only two people have been guarding the southern basement in rotation for years —”

Amara interrupted, “It is guarded only by two people for years! How?”

“Yes Baahu. Initially we kept our southern basement heavily guarded. It garnered quite an attention resulting in several stealing attempts; one sneak in was even made by Bhalla and you. Our high priest came to a conclusion that the attempts would never seize, unless and until the mystery was removed or the heavy guard dropped. He carried out an elaborate plan to do both. He faked the transport of the chambers contents quite convincingly to our Kooli temple and then he converted the place into a storage warehouse.”

On seeing Amara's contemplative look, Kattapa added, “Yes. If anybody had guessed that the transfer did not occur, they might make an attempt. We made it into a storage warehouse, so that we can have a reason to keep up with the high security. Then slowly, he started to convert the warehouse into a dumpsite for broken equipment, claiming bad internal weather for storage goods. After completely changing the place, I was given the duty to see to that site, so none, except me, had any job in there. As people stopped accessing the basement, we cut down the security to just two guards. The chambers were hidden in plain sight for a long time.”

“And somebody was clever enough to discover it. When we are guarding something of such importance in the palace, why were we kept in the dark? Why mother did not say anything to us about it?” Amara wondered.

Kattapa declared, “Because, My King, Rajamatha has no idea that the mystery was never relocated.”

On Amara's astonished look, Kattapa answered, “My King, you must understand. The High priest carried out the entire plan by himself with only me as his accomplice. We two only know that the supposed mystery was not relocated. He made me swear on my honor of serving the Mahishmati Kingdom that I would reveal the secret only to the King of Mahishmati. And i must never tell this secret to anybody, including Rajamatha Sivagami Devi, even on my deathbed.”

Amara was completely dismayed on hearing a secret of this magnitude. Stunned by the revelation he questioned, “Why Aagamaji would carry out such an elaborate plan to keep it hidden —”

Kattapa interrupted, “No Baahu. It was carried out by the high priest of that time, Pandit Dwjendra Swamiji.”

“Why would Swamiji order you particularly that mother should not know the secret? How could he not trust her?”

“I was not privy to his reasons, My King. He once told me that it is not a matter of trust sometimes.”

“I cannot comprehend this. Do you trust Swamiji in such a matter of importance?”

“I would never trust anyone more than Swamiji and you,” Kattapa declared.

Amara pondered about that for some time. He knew there must be a reason for why Kattapa trusted Swamiji more than his mother. Kattapas loyalty was mainly to the throne and he had done his duty all these years successfully. All these years there never had been a disturbance in the castle, except Saketh who was the spy for the Kalakeyas. Was there a link to all this? Should he discuss this with mother? Unable to comprehend what he must do, he sat heavily on a chair. He concluded wearily, “There must be a very good reason for keeping mother in the dark. Does Aagamaji know all this?”

“I'm not really sure, My King. I'm forbidden to discuss the issue with anybody except the King. Aagamaji was Swamiji's prime follower. Through Swamiji, Aagamaji may know we are guarding something in here. He diligently does his work to prevent any chance event.”

“Despite all this, a break in has occurred. When do you suspect that the break in had occurred?”

“My King, till last night everything was good. One guard of the southern basement was not seen after mid morning. We have a suspected time frame of more than twelve hours.”  
  
“It is nearly the same amount of time in which the security had been sparse due to the war,” Amara speculated. “A planned attempt. What were those subtle signs, regarding the break in, you found Uncle?”

“Aagamaji and I have been maintaining that place for years, My King. When the guard reported to me that his counterpart was missing, we both immediately went to investigate. Aagamaji identified that the place had been disturbed, My King. He had placed some traps to identify in case someone would trespass. And someone had activated those. There was no outward sign other than the missing guard. We found him unconscious in the near by rubble. After revival, he told us that he knew nothing except that he was attacked from behind.”

“It was someone with the exact knowledge on how to enter, where to enter and when to enter the castle. At the same time, he did not know about those subtle traps. Uncle, You are right. Something big is brewing. What does mother know now?”

“Rajamatha knows that the one of the guards of the southern basement got injured. She also knows that it has created a panic in both Aagamaji and me.”

There was a knock. It was a maid who had come with the orders to escort them to Rajamatha Sivagami Devi's chambers immediately.

*****************

Bhalla locked the door and said, “Should I leave—”

“No Bhalla stay. What information, Aagama? For you to come openly here, it must be extremely important,” Bijalla mused.

Aagamaji appeared pale. He drank a big goblet of wine swiftly. Taking a deep breath, he declared, “The southern basement of the castle has been breached.”

“What!” Bijalla screamed and stood up, “No! When did this happen Aagama? How? Were things stolen?”

Aagamaji said critically, “I have completely no idea on what had happened. I know nothing except that the breach has occurred. None has entered the site for years and we dont even have the means to open it.”

“You have the Key!” Bijalla thundered.

“I _had the_ Key. It was confiscated!” Aagamaji said staidly.

“It was confiscated by _him_ , wasn't it? I hate _him_. Even after death, he creates problems. I want to dig him back up and thrash him again. Why didn't you tell me before?” questioned Bijalla.

“I did not want you to worry over nothing. I had been investigating the possibilities of its location and I was very near in acquiring it back,” stated Aagamaji.

“You should have informed me!” Bijalla declared angrily. Then his face suddenly went horrifyingly pale, “The breach was not done by the hands of Kalakeyas, was it? I am right, aren't I Aagama?”

“There is a very high possibility that it was not done by Kalakeyas,” Aagamaji stated critically. “I have my doubts on who might have done it.”

Bhalla was observing the conversation, sipping a large amount of wine. Aagamaji and his father were scared and angry. This issue with the southern basement had shaken them to the core. Something about this basement was familiar to Bhalla. What could it be? The basement!

“The hidden mystery of the southern basement! Your research recordings, Father? That was what you all had kept hidden in the southern basement, wasnt it?” Bhalla was amazed. “Why do you worry Father? It was relocated. The place is now a dumpsite.”

“I'm not very sure if the relocation had happened Bhalla. I still believe we are guarding… but considering the breach, we were guarding something in there. Since we have lost the means to open it, we know nothing now,” stressed Bijalla ingested a large quantity of wine.

There was yet another knock. It was a maid who had come to collect them on Rajamatha Sivagami Devi's orders immediately.

Bijalla stated, “Bhalla go to your mother's meeting. We will come soon.”

******************

Rajamatha Sivagami Devi found herself in a conundrum. Her mind was pulling her in various directions. One part of her was relieved that the heir fiasco had come to an end. One part of her was happy that the Kalakeyas were gone. One part of her was thinking about the missive received earlier that day, which was from the King of Kunthala requesting Mahishmati's aid. One part of her was fully filled with pride for her darling son, the future King of Mahishmati, Amarendra Baahubali.

One other part of her was speculating about the injured guard who had elicited such fear among Kattapa and Aagamaji. Seeing the panic on Aagamajis and Kattapas face, Rajamatha Sivagami Devi understood that the situation was not a simple one. There was more to it than just the injured guard. More probing was necessary. She had already given orders to escort Baahu, Vibha, Bijalla, Kattapa and Aagamaji to her chambers immediately.

But one part of her was completely worried on how to face her Vibha. She, Rajamatha Sivagami Devi, who was all about fair play, had refused her Vibha the throne, even after he won the competition. Would he be furious with her? She knew Bijalla was completely against her decision, but what was she to do. It did not help her Vibha, who was completely focused on killing the Chieftain of Kalakeyas; that he did not pause for a second to save the public. She could not consciously act against public's wishes, when it was clearly apparent that Baahu was the perfect candidate. What would she do if her Vibha resents her? No, she would not allow that to happen. She would somehow convince her Vibha to see the light of the situation.

Sivagami's face lost some of its meager brightness on seeing one of her sons enter her chambers. The lack of the swagger and the unsteadiness in her Vibha's steps indicated that he was deeply disturbed. Unable to control herself when he stumbled, she exclaimed “Vibha —”

*****************

Bhalladeva had a little trouble maintaining his balance. He was not previously aware of his weariness from the war, partly due to his fathers exciting stories and partly due to the large amount of wine he had consumed. With nothing to distract him, he had a little trouble walking coherently to his mothers chambers. Whatever coherency he managed was completely wiped out, when he heard his mother call him, 'Vibha —' and proceeded to catch him from stumbling.

Vibha was Bhalla's special name from mother. It had been his childhood nickname. Bhalla had forbidden her to use the name, since his adolescent years. He had thought that Vibha sounded childish compared to Bhalla. He had thought that it was weak. But hearing that name now, had made his heart jump up with warmth. It indicated that she was very much worried about him.

Sivagami made Bhalla sit on a chair and said to him indignantly, “Vibha, you are drunk.”

Bhalla opened his mouth to answer, but his mind had blanked out. All his previous anger directed at his mother, had somehow lessened in intensity on hearing his childhood nickname. He said, “Mother, I —”

At that exact moment, Amara and Kattapa entered her chambers. They found Sivagami hovering over Bhalla. Amara went near them and asked, “Mother what is going on? Is Bhalla well?”

Being the topic of the discussion irked Bhalla, but seeing the concern in Amara's eyes nearly pushed him over the edge. He could have digested anything else; but this concern, dare he say pity? This was not what he expected. Nobody would dare pity him.

*******************

Sivagami told Amara, “Vibha is completely drunk.”

“Yes. Bhalla was cheated today,” proclaimed the angry drunken voice of Bijalla. He had just entered the chambers with Aagamaji.

“You made him drunk!” Sivagami accused Bijalla.

“Not me! You!” Bijalla retaliated.

“You are the reason! You made Vibha drunk, so drunk that he cannot walk without stumbling —”

“I offered him solace. You are the reason for which he drank in the first place! And don't you dare call him that —”

On seeing Sivagami about to spat another reply, Aagamaji awkwardly cleared his throat, preventing the conversation from escalating further. All others were watching wide eyed at this spectacle.

Sivagami collected herself from completely giving into her rage. Taking a deep breath, she walked calmly to a chair and sat down. Seeing all the tired faces gazing at her, she said, “As you all know, I have called you all to discuss a few things. First, there was a break in the southern basement of our castle when we were at war. There was a relic stored in the same place earlier but it was relocated. I want Baahu and Bhalla to look into that issue.”

On receiving nods from both her sons, Sivagami continued, “Next, We received a missive earlier today from our ally, the King of Kunthala. He had mentioned that Kunthala have been facing problems recently from the tribe of Pindaris. Their King believes some of their settlements hinge on the Kunthala river banks of our borders, too. He wants an ambassador to discuss and deal with the issue. Will you go to Kunthala, Vibha? It would be a nice change —”

“Bhalla will not be going anywhere. You will not send my son away to fight in some place alone!” Bijalla ramped before Bhalla could say anything.

“It is a meeting. I'm not sending Vibha to fight —” Sivagami started.

Bijalla cut off, “Don't you start —”

Aagamaji interrupted both, “Why don't we send Baahubali to Kunthala, Rajamatha? For discussing political matters, it does not matter who goes, as long as the matter is adequately dealt. Am I right, Rajamatha?”

Trying to diffuse the situation, Amara nodded at his mother who was glaring at Bijalla. Sivagami pondered over the issue for some time. Arriving at a conclusion, she stated, “The issue is settled then. Tomorrow after the Kooli temple festival, you will start to Kunthala, Baahu. Finally, regarding the festival tomorrow —”

“I'll not be attending the festival. So, I'm leaving,” Bijalla left. Bhalla who was tiredly observing in sidelines, watched his father storm out, as soon as the subject of Kooli temple came up.

Sivagami continued, “As I said, the festival is tomorrow. You may not know this, Bhalla and Baahu, but every time that festival occurs, something untoward happens. I suspect that, this year too, will not be an exception. I want the festival to happen peacefully this time.”

Kattapa acquiesced with a deep bow.

Amara said, “It will happen peacefully this time, mother. Bhalla and I will oversee the guard duties.”

“Baahu needs to be in the temple anyways to torch the demon, so he will be enough for guarding the pooja area, mother,” Bhalla mused. “I'll go undercover for added security, mother. It would be perfect for doing the perimeters of the temple.”

Sivagami said, “Agreed. I trust all the preparations for the pooja are ready, Aagamaji?”

Aagamaji agreed, “Yes Rajamatha. I need your approval on some of the proceedings.”

After discussing with Aagamaji and Kattapa few last minute details, Sivagami was satisfied that everything would go well in the festival tomorrow. She stated, “Aagamaji and Kattapa, we have concluded this meeting then.”

Aagamaji and Kattapa filtered out with their greetings.

****************

After everyone left, Sivagami directed her attention to her sons. She knew that they were bone tired from the battle, but she found herself chuckling, when she saw Amara fighting to stay awake and Vibha passed out on his chair. Along with Amara, she helped the marginally conscious Vibha out of his chair and deposited him on a bed.

Sivagami started, “Baahu, I —” On seeing his tired eyes, she ruffled his hair and said, “Stay in here. Go to sleep, son. We will all talk tomorrow.”

Amara claimed another bed in the nearby room. Sivagami tucked in both of her tired sons on their beds. After the long suffering war with Kalakeyas, her sons have returned to her; both have come back to her safe and sound. Nothing could harm them now. They were sleeping safely in her chambers. Satisfied, Rajamatha Sivagami Devi went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you are right. All the four chapters are of the same night from different people's view; the night they won the Kalakeyas. I have created so many knots, right from the first chapter, which you can see, I'm unravelling as the chapter progresses. I hope you all find it interesting.
> 
> Vibha in Sanskrit means moon. It is kind of an ambiguous name, for both girls and boys, like Surya. You can see why Bijalla hates it, when compared to Bhalla which means strength.
> 
> Please tell me if you find any errors, as i faced problems with uploading. The punctuation marks vanished everytime. How to fix this? All the virus scans came clean. Help please?
> 
> Please leave your comments below. Next update is two weeks later, as you all know on Oct 31. 
> 
> See you at Kooli Temple Festival, again.


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